Tremayne briskly walked down the hall, his steward in step beside him. “Is everything in preparation?"
"Aye, milord,” Evan answered. “The ritual Celtic blade has been soaked with ox's blood and then cleansed with boiled mountain water."
"This pleases me."
"To think by morrow's eve, you will have yer mother alive and she'll tell you the name of yer father.” Evan chuckled, his gaze shifting to Tremayne. “Your father could even be Laird Phillip Roberts."
Tremayne stopped and grabbed Evan's tunic. “What did you say?"
"Your ... yer mother seduced many men, one of which is yer prisoner's father."
"Lady Gavenia could be my sister?"
"Aye. Ironic is it not?” Evan peered closely at him, gauging his reaction. “Ye haven't bedded the wench, have you?"
Nae, it could not be. The thought tore at his insides. Releasing his steward, he stormed down the hallway. He needed to slay something ... or someone.
Evan watched his master's stiff back retreat around a corner. Resting his hand on his sword belt, he whistled as he walked out of the dark castle and returned to his humble abode on the village outskirts.
A group of soldiers strode toward him, and he sidestepped to get out of their way. He cursed them under his breath. Things would be different once Lady Torella returned. She had a way of enchanting the soldiers to be more pliable to her whims. The men today were savages, rutting, disrespecting savages.
A heather-thatched cottage sat ridged in the glen. Evan preferred his abode to be away from the village's prying eyes and curious ears. The noises that came from his cottage were altogether unholy.
He opened the door, eager to see his woman in the position he left her in. Tied to the bed, Coira lay naked—her legs open, her breasts protruding upward. She slept peacefully, her chest rising and falling in rhythm. She used to resist being bound to the wall near the bed, the short chains allowing her to sleep and sit, but naught else. After a while, she came to accept that was how he enjoyed seeing her—enjoyed fucking her.
And fuck her, he did.
Often he would take his pleasure in her. Sometimes he would sink his cock into her while one of the stable boys would ram into his buttocks. Oh, the sensation of having both ass and cock stimulated. ‘Twas truly remarkable.
He did not keep her tied up all the time. Nae, he was not a beast. She was free to go into the village to seduce a soldier into coming back to the cottage. A few soldiers were unsure of Evan, but Coira would kneel before them and play beneath their kilts, arousing them until they did not care that Evan watched and waited.
Artfully, Coira stirred the soldiers into frenzy, never allowing them release until Evan joined them. The soldiers were so aroused; they did not care where they stuck their staff, as long as it gave them pleasure.
Oh yea, Coira was skilled on how she guided their cocks from her mouth to his backside, all the while sucking and licking their balls. The same soldiers that looked at him with distain on the road would beg for him to spill his seed. The power was intoxicating and he owed it all to Coira.
His love. His woman.
Evan climbed onto the bed between her legs and took a big whiff of her glorious loins. He rolled his eyes and moaned. She still smelled from last eve's pleasure. Perhaps, the burly sentry's seed was still in her pink flesh.
Lowering his head, he began to lick her moist inner lips.
She slowly squirmed, but did not open her eyes. He darted his tongue in and out of her, lapping her warm juices into his mouth. A sweet moan escaped her lips and her thighs tightened around his ears. With her eagerness mounting, his shaft hardened against the bed, his balls becoming heavy.
He flicked her sensitive bud with his tongue and her body twitched. Her hips rocked to and fro, her insides pulsing. He loved it when she found her zenith. Any moment now, she would—
Coira's scream pierced his ears. Evan wondered how his master had any hearing left. Her body lay relaxed on the bed, her passion spent, but he enjoyed lapping up the rest of her juices.
"Did you tell Master that Lady Gavenia could be his sister?"
Evan rose and wiped his mouth. “Aye, although it not be true. Lady Torella bed Laird Phillip after the master was born."
He kneeled on the bed and straddled her chest, his erection near her luscious lips. She grabbed the base of his flesh and licked the head.
"It matters not, old man. As long as he thinks of her as a sister, he will not fuck her."
Evan grabbed his staff and gently slapped her face with it. “Enough talk wench, suck me."
A smiled crossed her face, her eyes taking on a sultry look. Opening her mouth wide, Evan pushed his flesh into the warm bliss of her mouth.
After Evan collapsed next to her and fell asleep, she lifted the key from Evan's kilt bag on the ground. Unlocking the chain, she rubbed her wrists and rose gingerly from the bed. Looking down at Evan, she grimaced. His crinkled face was relaxed and a loud snore came from his thin lips. She resisted the urge to spit on his ugly visage. The only reason she put up with his bumbling attempts at lovemaking was so she could stay close to the Laird. Well, truth be told, Evan was not that bad, but still, she did not like the man. There was something about him that repulsed her. Evan was not important, what was important was winning the master's attentions back. She just needed to get rid of that spoiled witch.
Why had the master not demand a ransom for milady? Why does he keep her around?
Ever since Lady Gavenia was imprisoned in the tower, her master had not been the same. While Evan thought her out seducing men, Coira would steal into the castle. She was careful to keep to the shadows, so the Laird would not see her, but the only time he came down to the great hall was to go to the tower. Other than that, no one saw him and no one from the castle made love to him. For a man with a huge sexual appetite, he could not possibly be satisfied with only one woman.
Could he?
Nae, the witch had enchanted him, made him obsessed with her wiles.
She must save her master from Lady Gavenia. Stop her evil ways from taking over his senses.
Coira chewed on her fingernails.
Turning away from the bed, she went to Evan's weapon chest and pulled out his crossbow and arrow. Bending the string, she tested the strength of the bow. Being from a farm, Coira knew how to hunt and kill an animal. This time, she would use those skills for a different type of animal.
She would kill Lady Gavenia and free her master from his obsession. He might even have Coira move back into the castle.
Giggling to herself, she dressed and left the cottage for the last time.
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Chapter Nine
Unable to sleep, Tremayne walked up the tower steps. He missed making love to her, even if it was in an illusion. What she saw as comfortable surroundings was a spell he conjured while they enjoyed each others bodies. Although women found his charms irresistible, it was in fact he who was under her spell.
Ironic really.
Daylight seemed to drag on forever. It was not until the moon was at its zenith, that she would sleep and he could visit her in the tower.
This eve was different.
He did not go.
Torn with the knowledge she could be kin, he had to keep himself away from her. How could he have these feeling for a sister?
'Twas impossible.
Nae, she was not his sister. He knew it with each breath he took. She was someone ... special. Never had he felt a stir for another woman other than sexual pleasure.
When he thought about her ... was with her ... could smell her hair ... well, he did not think straight. Could not complete a single duty without having her image invade his mind. Had this not been the case, he would have less cuts from training in the field with his men-at-arms.
Stale, musty air filled his lungs. He reached the top stair of the tower and halted to stare at his rough hands. The sun had yet to rise, leaving the eve as undisturbed as the prisone
r behind the door.
He did not want to go inside, did not want to wake her from her dreams. From the illusion of him being her savior. Instead she would know he was not her liberator, but her enemy—the barbarian who would sacrifice her to free his mother from death.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the door with the key and entered her chilly cage like he had done so many eves before. Instead of enchanting her, he flicked his hand at the sleeping form. The orange chain gently unwound itself from around her waist. Like a glowing snake it slithered upon his open palm and curled into a tight ball. He closed his fist and it disappeared.
His mother told him the witch would be powerless on Samhain, and would be no threat to their ritual. Gavenia might as well be comfortable for her last day on earth.
He stepped closer to her bed. His chest was heavy with a sense of foreboding. She was breathtaking, sleeping peacefully on her back, soft, short golden hair fanned around her head, giving her an angelic appeal. Her light, long eyelashes rested on rosy cheeks while her full pink lips pressed together.
Was she disappointed he had not visited her dreams?
She certainly was not his sister. Gavenia was the complete opposite to him. Where her features were light and pure, his were dark and unholy.
She was good.
He was evil.
His whole being ached to touch her warm skin. To lie beside her soft body and cradle her in his arms. He must resist the temptation.
For when she woke, she would be more than disappointed, she would be furious.
Lady Gavenia would finally be introduced to Laird Tremayne Campbell.
Her captor.
Curse it all, he had to have one last kiss. One last taste of her mouth before she hated him. Sitting down beside her, he leaned over her to press his lips against hers. She moaned and he gently pushed his tongue into her mouth. The taste of her essence was more intoxicating than any spell he conjured. His heart yearned for more, but he knew she was close to waking. He had to stop. Had to pull away from her and never touch her again.
Gavenia opened her eyes and stretched her arms. Oh, he had come after all. She smiled. Her dream was so far filled with nightmares and blood. But now he was here, he would chase them away. She tilted her head a little, and wiped away the fuzziness in her eyes. Why was he standing above her and not in her bed? And why did he look somber? Had someone died?
She reached for him, but he stepped back.
Something was wrong.
She glanced around her dungeon.
Something was very wrong.
Confused, Gavenia sat up in her lumpy bed and looked at her fantasy lover.
Was ... was she awake?
She couldn't be. Her lover stood before her in all his usual handsome glory. His black garb accentuated the hard muscles beneath. A body she knew intimately. However, his gaze was hard as he stared at her. She rubbed her eyes and swung her feet onto the cold stone floor. The chill crept up her legs and rested in her stomach.
She was awake!
Her lover was real!
Fear gripped her and she scrambled out of the bed and backed against the far wall. “How is it you are here?"
Her dream lover cleared his throat, and for a fleeting moment, his blue eyes softened, then darkened once more. In a rich timbered voice, he replied, “I am the sorcerer, Laird Tremayne, Chieftain of the Campbells."
"Who ... who are you?” The question seemed stupid to her, since he had introduced himself, but she did not know how he could be of flesh and blood.
Did he not kiss her moments ago?
"I am the reason you are imprisoned. This is my keep and you will be used in a ritual to free my mother from purgatory.” He leaned causally against the wall, his arms crossed as if he were having a pleasant morning chat with an old friend.
"What ritual?” Gavenia asked incredulously. The wall behind her helped to keep her upright when her knees threatened to buckle.
The sorcerer pushed himself off the wall and stepped closer. “I did not mean for the dreams to go this far."
"Why? Why did you make love to me?"
Averting his gaze, the sorcerer turned his back on her. “I do not know.” Opening the door, he called over his shoulder, “The ritual will take place this eve. Samhain's eve."
Gavenia jumped when the door slammed closed behind him. She was numb in her heart, her stomach churned with nausea. In one morn, her world crumbled further into darkness. The only slice of hope she had in this place was the same man who captured and imprisoned her. And now he wanted to kill her.
This was not the same man as her tender lover. It could not be.
She had to accept the truth—she allowed a man to make love to her and perhaps sire a babe. After spending her life avoiding men, she allowed her enemy to penetrate her defenses.
Aye ... willingly allowed it.
Her legs gave out and she slid down the wall, tears streaming down her face. Sitting on the floor, she clutched her knees to her chest. Her skin was chilled and her muscles ached.
How long was she under his spell?
He had taken her maiden head!
He must have used his powers to take the pain away, because she did not feel her maiden head break. All she felt was desire and pleasure. Even now her body craved his love. His caress.
She slapped her face.
"Stop it!"
She would not love her enemy.
She had to stop acting like a spoiled bairn and toughen up. Even though the vision of her death was due to a birthing, it did not mean she could not be killed by dark magick. And what if she had fallen pregnant? In three seasons her vision would come true. Panic welled in her chest, burning her throat with fear.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself. She could not think on her death vision now. Instead, she had to focus on escaping. There had to be a way.
Rising from the floor, she touched her waist. The chain was no longer there. Her smile grew then faded. It was the morn of Samhain. The only day her powers did not work.
Around mid-morn, a guard came for her and led her downstairs. Perhaps this was the opportunity she was looking for. She must take note on her surroundings when she reached the outside. Surely, there would be a weak point in the battlements. Some feeble section in the Campbells defenses where she could escape.
An ugly guard with a wart on his cheek opened the tower door and pushed her outside. For the first time in many days, she enjoyed the sunshine on her skin.
The rising sun brightened the bailey and Gavenia squinted. The guard's hand pinched the skin under her arm and led her toward the castle. She scanned the area and found large battlements surrounded the grim castle and village. She judged the sentries on the wall and saw them raising a flag. The Campbell crest held the symbol of a red boar's head. Gavenia squinted again to focus on the familiar flag. Where had she seen that symbol before?
A sudden feeling of danger overwhelmed her senses. Intuitively, her muscle's tightened, her stomach clenched.
Her gaze swept the area.
Something was going to happen to her.
She heard a whizzing sound and feinted to the left. An arrow zoomed by her and landed into the guard's arm. He yelled in pain, and Gavenia turned to see Coira racing toward her, her eyes burning with hatred.
"Die witch!” she screamed, stopping to load another arrow into the bow.
There was no place to run without Coira shooting another arrow into her back, and her guard was on the ground, groaning in pain.
Terror like she had never known before coursed through her trembling body.
Dear Goddess, I am going to die! I am going to die!
Gavenia had only one chance.
Pivoting, she yanked the arrow out of the guard's arm and ran toward Coira. The surprised look on her face brought Gavenia precious moments before the crazed woman raised the loaded bow.
An eerie scream sounded and Gavenia realized it came from her own lips as she raised her bloody arrow and sunk it
into Coira's chest.
Coira dropped her bow and fell to the ground, her eyelashes blinked rapidly and then slowed until they closed altogether.
Gavenia stood over her, speechless and numb. The only sound she could hear was her inner voice. I killed her. I killed her.
An older man ran over to Coira and fell to the ground. He cradled her lifeless body in his arms and sobbed.
Stumbling back, Gavenia could not stop trembling. She had never killed anyone before. She had not seen anyone die. Being sheltered behind Gleich Castle, her family kept her away from death. Until now...
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wanted to go home. And cry into her mother's arms. She did not want to kill Coira. She did not want to kill anyone.
People gathered around and stared at Coira's corpse. The older man looked up at Gavenia with intense rage. He pushed to his feet and pulled out his sword.
She stepped back, bumping into the villagers. Would no one stand in to protect her from the man's wrath? She tried to run, but people blocked her way.
He was almost upon her.
She was trapped!
She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for his sword to slice her head off.
Metal sparked against metal close in her ear, and Gavenia opened her eyes. The sorcerer held down the older man's sword with his own, and then punched him in the face. The other man staggered backward.
"Take yer leave, Evan!” the sorcerer growled, his eyes glaring with anger. The villagers took a step back in fear and Evan faltered. He lowered his eyes and returned to Coira's body.
The sorcerer turned to Gavenia and grabbed her wrist. “Ye make enemies faster than the English king."
Gavenia's face heated and her chest burned with fury. Yanking her wrist away from his hand, she retorted, “I did not ask to be here!"
He stood inches away from her, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His blue eyes tried to stare her down, but she raised her chin and held his gaze. An uncomfortable silence descended between them, but Gavenia was not going to back down. Feeling anger was better than fear and remorse.
The Celtic Witch and the Sorcerer [Celtic Series Book 2] Page 7